


Darth Vagania

by Eralk Fang (EralkFang)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Crossdressing, Dom/sub Undertones, Genderplay, Humor, Lingerie, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 06:49:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7880692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EralkFang/pseuds/Eralk%20Fang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Tell me what I must do, Mistress,” Kylo says, swallowing and stressing the correct title carefully. Hux pats his cheek firmly and withdraws his hand to toy with his necklace again. Kylo immediately misses its faint warmth. </p><p>“You must call things by their proper names,” Hux tells him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darth Vagania

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sath/gifts).



> For [Sath](http://sathinfection.tumblr.com/), who let me take this wonderful idea off of her hands. And is also, like, an inspiration in more ways than one. <3

Later, Kylo will realize he should have seen this coming. After all, it was _his_ idea to incorporate a little costuming into his and Hux’s “appointments.” But he hadn’t been thinking of anything more creative than a round of Naughty Medic.

He should have known that Hux would go all out given any prompting. Hux has never done anything by half-measures in his life. When asked to design a superweapon, he built a planet that eats planets to blow up planets.

 _Subtle_ , Hux isn’t.

For now, though, Kylo has no idea what Hux has in store for him. He’s arrived at Hux’s quarters on time, his eagerness making him punctual. Kylo is always to arrive at Hux’s door immediately after Hux goes off shift (although he will wait up to fifteen minutes for Kylo, a half hour if he’s just returned to the ship), but tonight, Hux has asked him to arrive an hour later than usual. When Kylo had asked why, Hux had only said, trailing a casual hand down his surcoat as if brushing away lint or dust, “I’ll need time to prepare.”

The memory of it makes Kylo shiver faintly with anticipation as he crosses the threshold. He has the security code; Hux gave it to him, long ago. He does not use it.

“Hux?”

The door closes behind him with its familiar hissing noise, but Hux’s quarters are, unusually, dark. It is no obstacle to Kylo, with both the Force and his familiarity with the rooms within. Hux must know that by now, which means that the lighting must be part of Hux’s preparations. Kylo stays where he is, resisting the urge to press forward into the welcoming dark.

He considers calling out for Hux again, or even reaching out with the Force to seek him out, despite the advanced and impenetrable nature of Hux’s mental shields, but before he can decide which action to take, someone speaks.

“Ah,” comes a low, growling voice that has to be Hux, but doesn’t sound like him. “You’ve _arrived_ , my young apprentice. You may _approach_.”

 _Apprentice_? Kylo thinks. He hadn’t thought he was going to have a role to play in this—Hux didn’t tell him anything other than when to come—but it’s an easy enough role for him to play. It’s like him asking Hux to dress up like a cadet, he supposes, although he can’t imagine Hux _agreeing_ to that.

Hux’s voice is coming from his bedroom, beyond the personal office that separates his quarters from the halls of the _Finalizer_. Kylo unmasks and places his helmet on Hux’s desk as he passes, unconsciously mirroring the position of the bust of Grand Moff Tarkin on the opposite side of the desk.

Hux’s bedroom is dim, strategically placed lights throwing stark shadows against the polished walls. It turns even the familiar edges of Hux’s bed strange to Kylo, but that might just be because the lights aren’t subtly framing it as they usually do. Instead, the lights draw the eye to a figure sprawled in the armchair opposite the bed.

For a moment, all Kylo can do is _look_.

Hux has taken Kylo’s suggestion seriously. _Very_ seriously. He’s covered as if for a haircut in a silky black robe, but Kylo isn’t staring at that. He’s staring at Hux’s face, which has been elaborated transformed by cosmetics and a wig. It’s red and long, with two sidelocks adorned with two golden rings. When the surprise wears off, Kylo’s first thought is that the wig is the wrong kind of red for Hux. It’s not the red-gold of his natural hair color, but a blue-red, almost a fuchsia.

But it doesn’t look out of place on him. Hux has taken the trouble of penciling in his eyebrows in a matching shade. Even his eyelashes are dark against his smoky eyelids, the entire look anchored by Hux’s matte black lips.

Kylo can’t stop looking at Hux’s redefined face. He looks different. He looks wonderful. As Hux notices Kylo’s eyes dipping down towards his mouth, he smirks, lips twisting into a lush, superior curve. Kylo has always liked Hux’s mouth, but he’s never quite appreciated its shape before. He wonders if the lipstick will leave black marks, like strange bruises, on his skin.

He hopes so.

“You’re _staring_ , my young apprentice,” Hux says, in that low, slow growl, and Kylo straightens up immediately, as if ordered to.

“I’m sorry…” Kylo trails off, waiting for Hux to feed him the right honorific. He’s still not sure who Hux is supposed to be, besides devastatingly gorgeous—but Hux gives him nothing. Instead, he grabs the edges of his robe with both hands.

“It’s alright,” Hux says, growl lightening to a very heavy purr. “I _want_ you to stare.” He throws open his robe.

For a moment, Kylo thinks Hux is completely naked underneath the robe, given how starkly the long, white line of Hux’s body contrasts with the blackness of his outer garment. The sudden exposure makes Kylo’s cock stir in his leggings.

But Hux isn’t naked. He’s just _mostly_ naked. He’s wearing necklaces—a tight choker bisecting his neck accompanied by two long, draping necklaces that nearly graze Hux’s pert, pink nipples. Kylo licks his lips at the familiar sight of them, as if he can already taste them in his mouth. The necklaces are long enough to draw the eye down to a pair of black lace panties stretched over Hux’s hips, the familiar bulge of his cock filling out the crotch more than the manufacturer probably intended.

As Kylo takes them in, Hux casually throws his left leg over the arm of the chair, letting the long limb dangle. His toenails are planted black, Kylo notices with a start. Hux hasn’t spared a single detail for this.

For _him_.

Without thinking, Kylo takes a lurching step forward. He _wants_ to do something to Hux. He’s not sure what yet, but he’s pretty sure it involves his mouth.

But Hux raises a relaxed but imperious hand. His nails match his toenails. “No!” Hux barks, in his usual voice, before catching himself and saying, in his adopted growl, “Not _yet_.” His hand undulates down through the air elegantly, ending in a lax come-hither gesture aimed crudely at Kylo’s crotch. “You are my apprentice,” he says. “You must _obey_ me.”

Kylo is seized by two conflicting urges—an urge to roll his eyes at the command to be obeyed and an eagerness, rooted in the slow stir of his cock, to take a knee in fealty to Hux’s sexual whims. He compromises quirking his eyebrows at Hux as he lifts his chin, expectantly awaiting orders as if on patrol.

“Before you can _approach_ me,” Hux says, lifting his head carefully under the weight of his voluminous wig, “you must be _pure_.” The theatrical growl snags and catches thrillingly on the rs in his words. “Strip for me,” Hux commands, pursing and smirking his black lips. The unfamiliar visual weight of Hux’s mouth makes Kylo feel too warm under his robes, making him all too happy to obey.

Hux always makes Kylo undress before he’ll even touch him, complaining that his robes are simply too complicated for him to successfully navigate without losing his erection. (This rule does not apply to the odd encounter in supply closets—according to Hux, those fall under entirely different rules of engagement. There are a lot of rules, with Hux, but they tend to be worth it.) It’s a little unfair, Kylo sometimes thinks. It’s not like Hux’s uniform, with its strap collar and eye and hook closures on the jacket, is any better.

With the ease of years of practice, Kylo strips down to his underwear and steps out of the dark mess of his robes. In a sudden fit of inspiration, he slides his hands over his sides and down his abdomen, smirking to himself when Hux’s eyes immediately drop to his stomach. Hux, Kylo knows, likes his hands. Kylo slides his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and tugs them down, just enough to flash the root of his cock at Hux.

“These too?” he asks, in all mock innocence. Hux’s eyes dart up to his face. The dark eye makeup makes Hux’s eyes look greener. Wilder.

Kylo likes it.

Hux smirks again, and nods slowly, accommodating the weight of the wig. Kylo shucks his underwear off and steps out of them. Hux shamelessly takes in his cock, raising a shapely eyebrow as if appraising it for the first time. Kylo’s cock twitches under Hux’s smoky-eyed gaze. Despite Hux’s unfamiliar attire, Kylo knows that look. It’s the same look Hux gives anything he deems of use—a look that promises that he knows exactly how to best extract its full potential.

Hux lets his appraising look linger, playing idly with the edge of his great, silky robe. The robe slips a few centimeters down Hux’s shoulder, exposing more pale, faintly freckled flesh and threatening to slip off completely. Kylo licks his lips at the sight. Hux extends his hand and makes a quick come-hither motion, his black fingernails glossy in the half-light. “Now,” he says, as casually as if ordering a drink, “ _crawl_ to me.”

Kylo smirks at Hux. He squats down to take to all fours, tossing his head back to flick his loose hair out of his face as he looks back up at Hux. He crawls slowly across the floor to him, swaying from side to side dramatically, never breaking eye contact. Hux’s lips quirk and then curve out into in a smirk that grows wider and wider with every centimeter Kylo gains.

When he reaches the foot of the chair, Kylo sits back into his heels, arching his back and puffing out his chest for effect. He wants to reach out and touch the body on the armchair before him, but he feels like Hux wants him to wait for further orders.

Up close, the effect is even more striking. There’s a faint scent to Hux’s skin, as if he’s used a different soap or, more likely, applied a scent of some kind. The idea of Hux primly rubbing his wrists together before brushing them against his long neck makes Kylo flush and glance down. When he glances back up at Hux, up the long, pale landscape of his body, intersected by the black bands of his panties and necklaces, bracketed by his black robe, Hux doesn’t narrow his eyes impatiently, like he usually does if Kylo behaves tentatively. He just tilts his head, offering Kylo a new angle on his immaculately painted face to appreciate.

Hux seems so _comfortable_ like this. His shoulders are even relaxed. It’s exactly what Kylo had hoped for and more. Hux has always been just as stiff and bloody-minded in bed as he is in on the bridge, but Kylo has always held out hope that there was something underneath the surface that just needed a little… _encouragement_. Encouragement like this.

Pride and not a little self-satisfaction bloom in Kylo’s chest.

His patience is rewarded when Hux’s black lips part, revealing his white teeth, and he nods lazily at his leg. Kylo doesn’t break eye contact as he lowers his head to Hux’s thigh, the one slung over the arm of the chair. When his lips connect with skin, there’s something missing, and he pulls back to squint at Hux’s leg.

Hux is not particularly hairy—the frankly stunning beard he’s capable of growing at the drop of a hat not withstanding—but, nonetheless, his body hair is usually _present_. “You shaved,” Kylo says, half-accusingly, half in awe. Before, he’d wondered what could possibly take Hux an hour to prepare for. Now, it seems Hux managed to do everything in the space of sixty minutes.

“Of course,” Hux sighs, reaching down to stroke an elegant, black-tipped hand over his thigh, demonstrating its smoothness. “Darth Vagania is many things, my young apprentice,” he growls, “but she is not an _animal_.”

“Darth Vagania,” Kylo repeats, trying the name out. The whole scene is starting to make more sense—Darth Vagania is the master and he is the apprentice.

Kylo nods and lowers his head again to mouth, mumble, and lick along Hux’s smooth, downright creamy thigh. He glances up the long line of Hux’s torso as he does so. One of Hux’s long necklaces has snagged against a pert nipple. Kylo’s cock pulses between his legs. He watches, eyes straining upwards, as Hux hums and tilt his head back slowly. One of the forelocks shifts backwards under its own weight, and Kylo catches a glimpse of Hux’s sideburn. The contrast between Hux and this character makes his cock pulse again, and he nips at Hux’s inner thigh.

Hux makes a pleased, hissing noise. “ _Yes_ ,” he says, in Darth Vagania’s low growl. He reaches a hand down into Kylo’s hair. His nails are sharp, freshly cut, and scrape against Kylo’s scalp. Kylo shivers. “I am Darth Vagania. But to you, I am _mistress_.”

Kylo pauses in his wet tracks, furrowing his eyebrows. No Jedi and no Sith has ever gone by the title of mistress, regardless of gender. It is one of the few failings of the old ways, he thinks. Even Darth Traya went by—Kylo shakes his head minutely and presses his chin into Hux’s cool but rapidly warming flesh. The point of this exercise isn’t to reflect on the long history of female Force users and sexist terminology.

The point is to get into the panties currently scratching against Kylo’s cheek as soon as he can. Kylo sits back to inspect them. They’re dark and lacy, but transparent enough that Kylo can see Hux’s cock through them. Hux’s balls bulge out the crotch of the panties, but his shaft is tucked neatly to the right alongside his hip. It’s the same way Hux dresses, just at a different angle. Kylo scoots to his left and breathes over Hux’s covered erection. He’s rewarded with a satisfying, drawling sigh from Hux and a visible twitch of Hux’s swelling cock in his panties.

“Your cock looks so good in these,” Kylo says, licking his lips.

Suddenly, the hand that was in his hair is on his face, nails digging painfully into his cheeks. Kylo grunts in pain and tries to jerk his head away, but Hux doesn’t let go. He’s smirking nastily now. It’s the closest Kylo’s ever seen Hux come to outright grinning. He doesn’t know if he likes it.

“Are you so _inexperienced_ , my young apprentice,” Hux growls in Darth Vagania’s theatrical voice, “as to not be able to tell _cock_ from _cunt_?”

Kylo stares up, unblinking, at Hux, for a long, silent moment. Hux’s face mercifully relaxes. He purses his dark lips and raises a defined eyebrow, strangely beautiful once more. Hux squeezes Kylo’s chin to force his mouth open, to answer him.

“I’ve never been with a woman before,” he reminds Hux. It’s the truth, which seems to be the right thing to say. Hux pries his painted nails from Kylo’s face. Kylo shifts his jaw, feeling the little half-moons of pain Hux has dug into his cheeks.

“Oh, my poor apprentice,” Hux soothes sarcastically. He traces a line up Kylo’s jaw, tilting his head back. “So _pure. Untouched_. How good it is for you that you have a mistress willing to initiate you into the _carnal arts_. Divest you of that pesky _virginity_.”

Kylo’s cock softened at the sudden attack on his face, but he feels himself stiffen to full attention again. What Hux is asking for, Hux already _has_. Before Hux, he hadn’t been with anyone of any gender. He’d thought himself above it, or, at least, apart from it, until Hux had yanked him belt-first into a closet and shoved his hand down his leggings. At the time, Hux had seemed irritated when Kylo’s lack of experience had made itself clear. Kylo had no idea Hux had found it erotic enough to want to do it again.

He’s touched. And turned on.

“Tell me what I must do, _Mistress_ ,” Kylo says, swallowing and stressing the correct title carefully. Hux pats his cheek firmly and withdraws his hand to toy with his necklace again. Kylo immediately misses its faint warmth.

“You must call things by their proper names,” Hux tells him.

Kylo tucks his chin down and presses his lips together, staring at Hux’s cock. Hux is getting harder, swelling shaft starting to strain against the lace. “You want me to call—”

“Call it by its name, yes,” Hux says. Kylo looks up to find Hux making a peculiar but familiar expression. It either means a gauntlet has been thrown or Kylo has five minutes to meet Hux in their usual supply closet because he needs to fuck Kylo’s face _right now_.

This is the first time it’s ever meant both of those things at the same time.

Kylo’s eyes drop back down to Hux’s cock. He squints at it for a moment, trying to remember a long-forgotten diagram of the human reproductive system. Mammals are homologous, he remembers, which means it’s all the same _stuff_ , just… arranged a little differently. In another universe, the tip of Hux’s cock would be his clit. Other than that, though, Kylo is lost. He can’t remember what the vagina correlates to, although he’s pretty sure that it’s both _not_ his hole and that Hux probably _wants_ it to be his hole.

The thought of Hux’s tight little asshole, hidden behind the lace of his panties, makes Kylo lick his lips. In his mind, he sees it clench and unclench, already slick, ready for him, _seeking_ for him. The image sends such a roiling heat through him that he has to press his mouth against Hux’s covered cock. Somewhere above him, Hux hums.

Hux’s cock is warm against his lips and tongue through the insignificant barrier of his panties. They taste a little different—they seem to be laundered with a different soap than Hux’s regulation underwear, which makes sense—but the heat of his flesh, the weight of his cock, is familiar. Kylo’s own cock twitches, and he moans a little at the sensation of it.

“Have something to say, do you?” Hux asks. “Tell me how it feels.”

Kylo lifts his head up just enough to expose his mouth, lower lip still brushing against black lace. “I like your vagina,” he tries, awkwardly.

Hux heaves a sigh, rolling his eyes. “The vagina is the _internal_ part,” Hux corrects him, sounding much more like himself than Darth Vagania. “The _vulva_ is the external part.”

Kylo’s shoulders slump. Trust Hux to make this _instructional._

But Hux purses his lips and stops lecturing him. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, as if to recenter himself. When he opens his eyes, his face is wicked again, and the faint prickle of shame Kylo felt at getting things wrong is swept away by a soft tide of arousal. “Try another name for it,” Hux suggests. “Call it my _cunt_ ,” he says, popping the “t” in the word.

The word is not unfamiliar to Kylo. He grew up with smugglers and scum; he serves with soldiers. But it suddenly occurs to him that he’s never said it himself. Even just pressing his tongue against the roof of his mouth to sound the hard “c” feels odd in his mouth. He falters, making only a choked scoff. Heat colors his cheeks, and he drops his gaze to Hux’s chest. A necklace chain has caught on one of Hux’s nipples, twisting its path down his pale skin. “C-cunt,” he says, quietly.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Kylo feels Hux’s fingers gently threading through his hair. They continue down his hairline, tracing a line over his brow and cheekbones before Hux gently cups Kylo’s jaw. He presses his thumb into Kylo’s lower lip. It curves and presses against his chin. Kylo lifts his eyes to Hux’s. His expression is still appraising, but—well, it’s not _soft_ , but it’s something approaching it. “Say it again,” Hux says encouragingly. “Louder.”

“Cunt,” Kylo repeats, his lower lip slipping wetly free of Hux’s thumb. Saying it sends a taboo thrill of heat down his chest and into his balls.

“Again,” Hux commands.

“Cunt,” Kylo says. This time, it’s sure and to the point, the same way Hux says it. Hux’s face breaks out into a smirk.

“Good,” he growls, dropping back into Darth Vagania with a shift of his shoulders. He pulls his hand away to gesture vaguely at his lace-covered cock. “Now,” he says, baring his teeth, “ _worship_ it.”

This time, Kylo reaches up to wrap his hands around the backs of Hux’s thighs. When Hux realizes what he’s doing, he shifts inelegantly down to give him room to do so. As soon as Hux is at a more agreeable angle, Kylo dives down, dropping his open mouth to the landscape of Hux’s covered cock.

Hux is hard now, pulsing against Kylo’s tongue. He tries to look up at Hux, but the angle is too awkward, so he drops his unfocused gaze to the waistband of Hux’s panties. They dig slightly into his skin, into the slightly soft flesh Kylo isn’t supposed to notice. Hux’s trail of red-gold pubic hair is intact, despite clashing with the wig. The sight of it makes Kylo’s awareness go a little static around the edges. He moans as he mouthes along Hux’s hip, leaving a line of damp in the lace.

When he reaches the head of Hux’s cock, which is unhurriedly leaking precome into the fabric of his panties, Kylo closes his eyes and lets his mouth fall lax to engulf it in the dark, wet heat of his mouth. _Clit_ , Kylo thinks, suddenly, and is almost startled by how hard his cock twitches at the thought of it, at how Hux is realigning the stars.

Kylo rolls his tongue against Hux’s cockhead. Hux makes a strangled noise, pulsing wet—enough for Kylo to feel it, but not enough for Kylo to _taste_ it. Not being able to taste Hux frustrates Kylo enough for him to pull his head up and rest it against Hux’s stomach. With his ear pressed against Hux, he can hear how labored Hux’s breathing is almost from the inside. Kylo licks his wet lips and rubs his hand on his thigh, ignoring his steadily aching cock. He nuzzles against Hux briefly—a liberty Hux doesn’t usually let him take, but one that Darth Vagania seems content to allow.

“I want to taste you,” Kylo groans lowly. One of Hux’s hands threads through his hair, petting at him and scratching at him as if he’s tame. He’s not. But the apprentice is, so he is.

It makes a certain kind sense here, down on his knees with Hux’s erection pressing against his neck through his spit-wet panties. “You _were_ tasting me,” Hux says, voice low but not rough, almost not condescending. Kylo glances up to find Hux pursing his black lips, looking down at him through smoky, half-lidded eyes. Hux looks different like this—not strange, but _otherworldly_. Closer to Kylo’s side of things.

His cock throbs at the idea.

“No,” Kylo says, thickly. He swallows, rubbing his cheek against Hux’s stomach. There’s something comforting about this position. Kylo turns his face in, enough to lazily fit his lips around Hux’s navel and lick at the sensitive skin within. Hux’s stomach contracts and he groans. Kylo lifts his head. “I want to taste your…”

He pauses. Hux _just_ told him, but he can’t remember which is which. He grimaces and forges ahead anyway. “I want to taste _inside_ of you,” he breathes.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Hux says under his breath, so short and sharp that it’s mostly just a vulgar scoff of air. There’s sudden pressure on Kylo’s shoulders and he realizes Hux is trying to haul him up to his level. He lets himself be pulled up and throws out his hands—one lands on the armrest, the other on Hux’s arm. Their noses brush together and Kylo leans in involuntarily, remembering just in time to ask, “It’s alright? I can kiss—”

“It’s sealed,” Hux hisses breathlessly, before fisting his hand in the back of Kylo’s hair and smashing their mouths together hard enough for the impact to vibrate through Kylo’s jaw. Kylo gives a low whine when Hux bites at his lower lip, as if Hux is _ravenous_ for him. Hux usually isn’t so passionate with him. Normally, Hux doesn’t even go in much for kissing.

Kylo shifts his weight on his knees, stabilizing himself enough to run a hand along the side of Hux’s slim waist. Hux’s mouth shifts under his at the motion, tongue slipping into Kylo’s mouth. But when Kylo presses forward and up, Hux yanks Kylo’s head back by his hair to stare wildly into his eyes. “Carry me,” he demands.

Kylo stares at Hux. Hux doesn’t like Kylo picking him up. He likes Kylo pressing him up against a wall, at most hauling a thigh up around his hips to better slot their hips together. He likes manhandling, not… _chivalry_.

Hux’s darkened brows furrow and Kylo recognizes the unusually still stare that comes from Hux actively repressing the urge to roll his eyes. “I can do that,” Kylo says quickly, nodding. He slides his hands around Hux’s hips to grip the scant meat of his flat ass, and Hux responds by twisting his long limbs firmly around Kylo.

Kylo staggers to his feet. Hux is elegantly and finely wrought, in contrast to his own great, raw-boned body, but he’s nonetheless nearly the same height and heavier than he looks. Kylo also suspects that the wig must adding some weight, given its length and volume.

But Kylo’s more than strong enough to carry him. He yanks Hux up for a better grip, and Hux makes a low groaning noise into his ear, covered cock rubbing against Kylo’s sculpted stomach. Seeing Hux take such obvious, unexpected pleasure from his strength makes Kylo’s cock throb where it nearly brushes against Hux’s smooth thigh.

Hux jerks his head back to flick one of the forelocks away from his face. Kylo had expected the wig to smell a little chemical, like cheap synth-hair, but it smells like Darth Vagania’s perfume. For the first time, Kylo wonders if Hux really managed to pull this all together in a day, or if Darth Vagania predated his request. The idea of those panties hiding in Hux’s underwear drawer for all this time makes Kylo’s cock smear precome against Hux’s thigh.

“Put me down on the bed,” Hux commands. He’s panting. Kylo turns and takes the three steps to Hux’s bed—a double, thankfully, senior officer’s privilege despite Hux’s unmarried status. He lowers him to the bed and lets Hux fall back gently.

Hux sprawls out on the bed, arching his back as he stretches, and he looks—oh, he looks _good_ like this, spread out like a feast. His makeup hasn’t budged, of course, but there’s a thin sheen of sweat on his skin. His nipples are hard and peaked, begging to be touched, pinched, _pulled_ , and his cock is so swollen that the leg holes of his panties are pulling away from his thighs.

Kylo is torn between wanting to look at Hux like this forever and wanting to put his mouth on every inch of Hux. As he tries to decide what to do first, Hux sighs and tucks his left hand over his panties, gently cupping his testicles. He purses his lips and closes his eyes. Only the movement of his knuckles lets Kylo know that Hux is rubbing the tips of his fingers against his hole. Hux arches into his own touch and makes a loud moan as he thumbs at his shaft at the same time. Hux, Kylo knows from experience, likes as much stimulation as he can get. His efficiency and focus can make it look like ambition, but Kylo knows it for what it really is— _greed_.

Hux gives another throaty, sighing groan, and Kylo’s cock responds with a painful _throb_.

“Don’t finger yourself,” Kylo says, suddenly. “Don’t… don’t touch your cunt.”

“Oh?” Hux asks. He rises to his right elbow and keeps at himself, grinding against his hand, fingers questing further back. “You presume to instruct _me_ in the carnal arts?”

His sneer is undercut by a flickering helpless grimace of pleasure as Hux seemingly pulses wet into his panties again at his own touch. Kylo chews on his lower lip, wondering if this is the first time Hux has done this.

“I said I want to taste you,” Kylo says, trying not to whine. Hux raises an eyebrow, but his hand stills. “I want to… eat your cunt,” he says, haltingly.

“ _Ah_ ,” Hux responds, and Kylo can’t tell if it’s a noise of pleasure, agreement, or both. But Hux removes his hand and languidly rolls onto his stomach. He sweeps the robe over his back, exposing the pale, interrupted column of his body. Hux somehow looks more naked like this, the lace panties so strained in the front that they struggle to contain his ass.

Hux pushes himself up onto all fours and then back a little, sticking his ass out. He reaches between his legs and tugs his panties down just enough to expose his cheeks. One knuckle slips between his cheeks as he does so, undoubtedly brushing against the tight little furl of his asshole, and Kylo needs him _now_.

He falls to his knees, mindless of the numbing shock that jolts through his legs as his kneecaps hit the hard floor. He has to shuffle forward a bit, but when he does, he’s in the perfect position. He fits his hands around Hux’s thighs, pressing his thick thumbs into the meat of his cheeks, pulling them apart and revealing—

“Oh,” Kylo says, almost dizzy. “Even here?”

“…not an _animal_ ,” Hux repeats, but it’s breathless. Kylo watches his perfectly smooth hole clench and unclench, and he needs to feel that against and around his tongue. He closes his eyes and buries his face in Hux’s cleft, the globes of his ass pressing against Kylo’s cheeks. He licks a slow, broad stripe up Hux’s hole, briefly wishing he could grab Hux’s cock and use it as leverage. But that’s all the build-up he can bear before pointing his tongue and circling Hux’s puckered rim with it.

Hux makes a moan that vibrates through his whole body and Kylo’s skull, louder than Kylo’s ever made him moan before. Darth Vagania, it seems, makes more noise than Hux does. Kylo suddenly wants to see how loud he can make his mistress moan.

The stress and tension of Hux’s work usually leave him tight enough that Kylo has to put some work and effort into opening him up. But Darth Vagania parts easily for him. Hux must have fingered himself open beforehand. The idea makes Kylo’s cock throb painfully, but he ignores it. Kylo licks and sucks, occasionally pulling off just to hear Hux whine as cold air hits his wet hole and mouth at the meat of his ass.

Kylo knows he doesn’t have much in the way of technique—Hux is still teaching him, _training_ him. But he makes up for it with enthusiasm. And it helps that Hux is giving him so much feedback—arching, gasping, _moaning_. The noises seem involuntary, not theatrical, and Kylo wonders if this is what Hux is always holding back when Kylo does this to him. He doesn’t let him do it very often. Is Hux embarrassed or ashamed by how much of a wanting thing he can be? There’s no reason to be, Kylo thinks, head swimming from the taste, the heat, the sound of Hux splitting open on his tongue. Kylo laps at Hux’s rim, and Hux _sobs_ , a soft, vulnerable noise, thighs part under his hands.

Something tender catches in Kylo’s throat and he suddenly needs to see Hux, needs to see him _respond_ with his whole body to what Kylo can do to him with his. He lifts his head, wet chin cooling in the climate controlled air. He presses a slack, slick kiss to Hux’s coccyx, silencing a muffled protest. He continues kissing up Hux’s exposed spine, clambering up onto the bed to kneel behind Hux. He skips the twisted terrain of the robe to press his cheek against Hux’s. The wig feels like real hair against his cheek, thick and silky. Kylo maneuvers his hips until he’s pressing the upward curve of his aching cock between Hux’s smooth legs, hissing as the lace of the panties scratch at the skin of his shaft. It’s an awkward pose, all told, but he can hold it if he can have Hux like this, pressed so closely against him that he can feel his heartbeat through his own chest.

He nuzzles Hux through the wig. “Mistress,” he whines in a low, thick voice, “Mistress, I have to fuck you, I _can’t_ —”

He’s not play-acting.

Hux takes a long, shuddering breath that reverberates through both of them. “Yes, yes,” he rasps, and extends one long arm out towards his side console. Without looking, Kylo reaches out and summons the oil from its usual hiding place. It lands in his hand with a solid thud.

Hux arches back against him, making Kylo gasp as he rubs at him. Kylo squeezes his eyes shut, trying to stave off the orgasm coiling thickly in his belly and balls. Hux moans something incoherent into the mattress, words only surfacing into sense when he turns his head. “Use the Force,” he gasps out. “Fuck me full of it.”

Kylo’s eyes are open and rolling before he consciously registers the sentiment. “That’s not how the Force works,” he grunts, arousal cooling just enough for his head to stop swimming. He pulls back, sitting on his heels, and oils his fingers up hastily, eager to get them _in_ Hux. Normally, Hux would be making a face over his shoulder as he reminded Kylo not to get any on the sheets. Instead, Hux is shifting his weight, pushing his ass back, eager and _wanton_.

It’s so different that a rush of nervous excitement makes Kylo’s hand shake as he strokes thick, wet lines of oil over Hux’s cleft, as if he really is a virgin fumbling with thrillingly unfamiliar genitalia. Hux gasps and pushes back at just the right moment to take in the tip of Kylo’s finger.

“Oh, _Mistress_ ,” Kylo says. He presses his finger in slowly, less because Hux needs it and more because he wants to see Hux’s hole engulf his finger, stretch to accommodate his thick knuckles. “Your cunt’s so wet,” he says, pulling his finger out with a slick noise.

Hux’s only response is to moan. Kylo drizzles more oil directly on Hux’s hole and inserts two fingers into him. Hux clenches around his knuckles when they’re almost in all the way, groaning underneath him, and then, with a straightening of his shoulders, relaxes his inner walls.

Kylo fingers Hux until he’s smooth, stretched, and yes, _wet_ , an overabundance of oil dripping out of his hole to slowly trail down his perineum and soak his panties. The slick smoothness of Hux’s rim on his fingertips fascinates Kylo enough that Hux has to growl out, “I’m ready.” And then, louder: “ _Fuck_ me.”

Kylo pulls out slowly. His fingers glisten in the half-light of Hux’s quarters, and he catches his lower lip between his teeth at the sight of Hux’s slightly gaping hole. He quickly shifts on the bed, pressing his knees to the insides of Hux’s. He takes his cock in hand, hissing at the contact—it throbs and leaks just at the touch of his own hand. He knows he won’t last long, but he has to fuck Hux, he has to come in him. He uses his free hand to press his big palm against the soft flesh of Hux’s asscheek, parting him enough to press the head of his cock against him.

Kylo gives a helpless groan as Hux takes him beautifully, engulfing him in tight, wet heat. He goes as slowly as he dares, mindful of his size and Hux’s, but Hux grunts and pushes back to spear himself on Kylo’s cock. “I didn’t choose you for you to be _gentle_ ,” Hux croaks, and Kylo has no idea whether he’s in character or not. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, he pushes in the rest of the way gently. Hux tenses and occasionally _trembles_ underneath him.

Kylo’s never seen Hux _desperate_ for him before.

As he bottoms out and feels Hux’s panties scrape against his balls, Hux shifts on the mattress, reaching up to flick one of his wig’s forelocks back as he presses his painted face into the sheets. The movement nearly flips the wig off, and Ren can see the layers: the thick hair of the wig, its neatly sewn edge, the lip of the completely unnecessary wig cap, and the familiar tapering of the short, red-gold hair at the nape of Hux’s neck.

It’s like he’s seeing _through_ Hux, in a way much different than when he brushes against his mind with the Force. This isn’t, Kylo suddenly realizes, something specifically designed to test him—although Hux certainly isn’t above using it to do so. Darth Vagania is older than this, than them. She’s a way _through_ for Hux, safe passage for something deep inside of him.

And Hux is letting Kylo see that. 

A strange, tender feeling in his chest mixes so awkwardly with the heavy pulse of his arousal that he has to pause. He pauses long enough that Hux makes a strained noise and reaches back, digging his short, sharp nails into the thick meat of his thigh. “Fuck me,” Hux gasps, as if short on air. “ _Please_.”

It’s the first time Hux has ever _begged_ for Kylo, and any philosophical musings on what Darth Vagania means to Hux evaporate. He starts fucking Hux slow and steady, leaning over to press his chest against Hux’s back. He nuzzles at Hux’s ear. Hux is tight and wet, wetter than usual with the amount of preparation and foreplay they’ve put into this. “Mistress, mistress,” Kylo grunts into Hux’s ear. “Your cunt’s so fucking _wet_ , your cunt’s so fucking _tight_ …”

Hux makes a breathless noise that makes Kylo’s cock pulse and throb deep inside of him, and then Kylo’s just fucking into him roughly with little regard for technique, little regard for anything other than how gorgeously Hux is taking him, giving to him. Hux thrashes below him and reaches back blindly, nails scraping at his face and his shoulder, and that’s it. Kylo lets out a long, low moan as he comes, pumping his seed into Hux as he shudders through his orgasm.

He almost goes limp, although he’s instinctively careful not to drop his entire weight on Hux. When his head clears and his cock begins to soften, Kylo realizes that there’s a strange pressure against his sternum. He blinks, stupidly, and then realizes it’s Hux—full but unfulfilled. He’s arching back against Kylo, panting, and Kylo doesn’t have to read his mind to feel how much he _needs_ to come. The oversensitive nerve endings of Kylo’s cock are starting to complain, but he doesn’t pull out of Hux. Instead, he reaches around Hux’s hips to paw at his cock.

Hux’s panties are wet with oil and precome, and Hux bucks violently into his hand, making a sobbing noise. “Ssh, ssh,” Kylo soothes, not even registering that this is another first for them, this semblance of gentleness. “It’s okay, I’m here. You can rub on my hand, rub your clit on my hand…”

Hux humps his hand once, twice, and then comes with a sigh and shudder, soaking the panties with his come. Kylo can feel his draining cock pulse against his hand. He kisses the side of Hux’s head as Hux finishes, going nearly limp, just like Kylo. Kylo murmurs indeterminate nonsense as he takes his hand away, twining his powerful arms around Hux’s trim waist. He liked speaking softly to Darth Vagania, he realizes with a start. He’d like to do it to Hux.

For a moment, there’s perfect, sweaty peace, and then Hux stirs underneath him. “You’re crushing me,” he complains, in his normal, slightly nasal voice, “and you’ve still got your cock up my ass.”

Kylo’s only response is a panting half-chuckle. He heaves a sigh, straightens up, and pulls out as quickly as he dares, hoping to catch Hux leaking his come. But as soon as Kylo clears him, Hux pushes himself to all fours and then to his knees, hiking up the robe to avoid mess. He awkwardly knees his way off of the bed.

Fatigue overwhelms Kylo—it’s been a long evening and a longer day—and he lowers himself to the bed on his side before rolling onto his back. He’s sweating and his now soft cock, draped on one thigh, is still slick with oil and come, but he feels uncommonly relaxed.

He watches as Hux undresses, licking his lips unconsciously as Hux peels off his come-soaked panties. For a brief, thrilling moment, Kylo thinks Hux will keep them as is, but Hux touches the wall to release the laundry receptacle and shoves them in there with a half-grimace. The robe joins it soon after, but the wig and jewelry are placed carefully on Hux’s side console. Hux peels off his wig cap and carefully sets it under the wig to keep them together. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, making his bangs fall into place the way Kylo likes. The makeup, of course, is still perfect—the sealer, Kylo thinks, must be the best on the market.

Hux ducks into the refresher and Kylo drowses, closing his eyes, content to let the sweat, oil, and come cool and dry on his skin. He thinks about what they just did. He thinks about where they’ll go from here.

Kylo’s distracted from his reverie when the mattress dips to accommodate Hux’s weight. He opens his eyes and lifts an arm, inviting Hux to curl up to him. They rarely cuddle, but it seems like such a small thing to ask and offer now.

Hux takes him up on it, jackknifing up to him as if they ended every one of their “appointments” like this. Darth Vagania, it seems, is the key to unlocking Hux’s more affectionate side.

“So,” Kylo says. He lifts his big hand and places it on the back of his head—another liberty, but a liberty rewarded when Hux half-nuzzles against it. “Darth Vagania?”

“Oh,” Hux says, pressing his face into Kylo’s chest. Kylo can feel Hux make a face against his flesh. “Vernal pantomime at the Academy. My senior year, I was convinced to play the dame.”

“And it gave you a taste for lipstick and lace?”

“It gave me an _appreciation_ for the sacred feminine,” Hux corrects him haughtily, tensing against him. But he relaxes after a moment. “It seemed to fit your request.”

It’s the closest Hux is going to come to asking if it was alright, and that makes Kylo’s chest feel tight. “It was,” he says, pressing a kiss to Hux’s sweaty crown. “ _Mistress_ ,” he says against his hair, taking in his familiar scent.

Hux lifts his head to look him in the eye. He’s washed off most of the makeup, but dark lingers on his lids and lashes. “You learn quickly,” he says, before dropping into Darth Vagania’s croak. “ _My young apprentice_.”

The voice is a lot, Kylo thinks, but if it lets Hux feel comfortable enough to kiss him like this, soft and seeking and with just enough teeth, he’ll listen to whatever Hux wants to say with it.

**Author's Note:**

> [Hux's jacket really does have hook and eye closures.](http://www.therpf.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=581684&d=1453722097) What a nerd.
> 
> Darth Vagania rhymes with do svidaniya. 
> 
> Technically, the title of [Mistress of Lightsabers](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Mistress_of_Lightsabers%20) is a thing, but it's a thing in the old EU, so. You know.
> 
> For more on how human genitalia is homologous, [check out this Oh Joy Sex Toy! comic](http://www.ohjoysextoy.com/genitals/)! But, you know, not at work.


End file.
